


Past and Present

by rayshant_bestopt



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: AU Time Pirate Waverider, Alpha Leonard, Alternate Universe - Firefly Fusion, M/M, Omega Ray, Polyamory, beta Mick, fugitive Len, fugitive Lisa, hired gun Mick, mechanic Ray, mention of Civil War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 22:28:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11678373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayshant_bestopt/pseuds/rayshant_bestopt
Summary: There's too much shit going on the Waverider, and Mick hasn't gotten to hit anyone yet.  That's why Mick is restless.  Not because Leonard has suddenly reappeared in his life, or because Ray is injured and laid up in the med bay because of it.  (AU Time Pirate Waverider)





	Past and Present

**Author's Note:**

> So I had this idea for a fic using Firefly and A/B/O dynamics, but it's started getting really complex, and since I'm brand new to the latter genre, I'm not sure whether I've bitten off more than I can chew. But I did create this little scene to introduce the Len-Mick-Ray dynamic, and figured I'd post it because why not?  
> If you're really that interested in the Verse I'm playing around with, check the bottom for the overall premise.

Mick couldn’t sleep. He’d had more beers than he bothered to count, and he was damned exhausted, and yet he was still just lying on his uncomfortably spacious bunk, eyes rotating between open and shut as they unseeingly stared at the darkness of either the ceiling or his eyelids.

He figured it had to be because of all of the chaos and lack of hurting people. Not because of Haircut. Not because of Len. Just the crazy that had blown up on this ship in general in the last twenty-four hours. After all, what should have been a simple smuggling job with a couple of passengers for “legitimacy” had suddenly turned into a fugitive chase with a Time Pig tied up in the brig and his former partner in crime (he won’t even let himself think about Snart in terms of _mate_ , no matter how the bite aches under all of the blistered scarring) more on the run than usual. And Haircut ripped at the seam with a laser blast to his side in the med bay, stable according to Red, but still stuck on his back. Mick hadn’t gone in to see for himself—he could see the Omega just fine from the outside, and there was too much going on in that little room anyways.

He threw the blanket off himself, jerking on a pair of sweats and his boots before striding toward the door. The burly criminal paused for a moment before reaching over and grabbing his gun as well—his favorite, the one that Red would never let him use inside the ship unless dire circumstances called for it (which was more often than an Alpha with a pirated Time Ship probably wanted to admit, but Mick wasn’t going to complain)—before stepping out into the hallway.

The Beta was headed to the galley—he needed another beer if he wasn’t going to sleep, and some snacks. And maybe some target practice in the cargo hull, in case the Captain changed his mind about letting Mick fry the Fed with the stupid British accent.

Stopping by the med bay was _completely_ coincidental. It on his way to where he was headed anyways, so stepping just inside to get a better look at the ship’s mechanic as he slept, breathing quiet but steady wasn't a big deal. The sound caused the Beta's muscles to relax slightly—not that he really _cared_ , but he supposed he might have gotten used to it over the last year or so. 

Mick would admit that he was still a little puzzled by the Omega, and not just because he wasn’t known for his abundance in brains. Ray was always nosing around Mick, smiling and eager to help despite Mick’s dismissive grunts and behavior. Maybe he thought they’d feel some sort of kinship due to lost Alphas, although Mick sincerely doubted it. Omega’s were soft and sentimental—he’d heard stories about their type just rolling over and dying after losing their mate; although the Boy Scout himself had somehow managed to keep going, surprisingly. Betas weren’t generally claimed at all, and even less so by Alphas (why bother?), but Mick didn’t care that his had left. He could do just as well on his own, if he could just find a decent crew. Really, he was only in it for the money: he didn't need a close bond with anyone.

“Well this is an interesting development,” a quiet voice drawled beside him, and Mick felt a sudden wave of conflicting emotions wash over him— _guilt, anger, desire, betrayal, solace_. It was a bag of complicated settled in his gut, and Mick hated complicated. He focused on the easiest feeling as a low snarl escaped his throat and he turned, curling his fingers around Len— _Snart_ —‘s neck and pushing his heat gun into the Alpha’s stomach.

“You going to kill me, Mick?” The Beta stared at the cold blue eyes watching him, searching for the slightest provocation to pull the trigger. The bastard deserved it—he brought all of this down on them, on him, in the worst way possible, and Mick was just _so angry_.

But despite the smugness in his words, that cocky twitch of his old partner’s lips, Mick still knew Len better than anyone, and he could see the pain behind his eyes as he searched his own. Pain for _what_ , there were too many options for someone as simple and straightforward as Mick. Len always played his own game, and Mick had just always trusted him. And it had always worked—until the day it didn’t. It hurt Mick’s head to think about.

He snarled again and grunted, pushing back and making space between them as he let the gun drop. Red probably wouldn’t like it if he killed the guy on the ship—not until they’d figured out how to get out of their current fugitive state, anyways.

“What do you want, Snart?” he asked lowly, the gravely tone in his voice emphasizing his irritation.

“Just looking after my sister.” The Alpha’s head nodded toward the second bed in the infirmary, where a young female with loose honey curls laid, face lined in discomfort and worry even as she slept. Mick could almost be swayed to feel sympathy for the girl if he wasn’t acutely aware of the fact that her _existence_ was the cause of all of the trouble he was currently caught up in. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“Heading to the brig to check on the Time Pig.” Len arched an eyebrow at the Beta’s answer, and Mick kept his eyes straight ahead of him. 

“The brig? You mean the one that on a standard Alpha-aught class Time Ship would be located _that_ way?” his finger pointed in the opposite direction that Mick had been headed, causing his former partner to bite his lip. _Of course_ the asshole would have memorized the schematics of the ship before boarding.

Snart smirked, turning back to where Ray was laid up. “Never figured you for the touchy-feely type, Mick.”

“He’s part of my crew.”

“Which is also pretty soft, for a band of smugglers.”

Mick narrowed his eyes. “Maybe, but they don’t abandon their own,” he replied pointedly, and Mick could have sworn he heard Len’s breath catch just slightly. Good. Mick didn’t care about Snart—not anymore—but the Alpha _should_ feel like shit for what he’d done. For abandoning his partner. His friend. His—

Mick forced himself to cut off his own thoughts. _He didn’t care_.

From his peripheral vision, the Alpha seemed like he was trying to think up something to say, but at that moment, Ray stirred groggily and Mick turned back, feet involuntarily striding toward him. Mick found himself breathing in his very alive scent and allowing himself a sliver of relief as those stupid puppy eyes caught sight of him and lit up like nothing was wrong at all. “Hey Mick.”

“Idiot.” Ray’s sleepy smile grew wider. “You should get back to sleep. God knows this hunk of junk is going to fall apart again soon enough, and you took a hell of a shot there.”

“Yeah. Kind of hurts,” the Omega agreed with a soft groan. He glanced up thoughtfully. “ _You_ okay?”

Mick blinked, eyes betraying him as they flickered to where his damned former partner still stood, obviously listening even as he kept vigil over the girl. "I'm not the one that got shot," he reminded the other.

“She’s something special. Important.” Mick frowned, narrowing his eyes as the injured man. Leave it to Ray to excuse people trying to _kill him_ because they had stuff going on. Just like an Omega—completely moronic. 

He opened his mouth to tell him as much, but Ray’s head lolled sideways, snuggling slightly against Mick’s muscular arm with a sleepy smile. “So are you, you know.”

The Beta grunted. “You’re obviously doped out of your mind, kid. I’m a Beta, and a crook. Can’t get much lower in the scheme of things.”

But Ray’s head simply flopped slowly in a vague head shake. “Just give it some time. You’ll work it out, Mick. You deserve to be happy.”

Mick felt the comforting weight of the other against him as he drifted off—that presence that he wouldn’t admit out loud he’d noticed missing from his bed earlier—and gave a scoff. Leave it to an Omega to think crap like this could be anything less than complicated.

 _Speaking of_ —Mick glanced sideways at where Len was still standing; still not directly looking at him and yet being completely obvious that he’d witnessed the whole thing. The ache hit him from both sides—being so far away from his former Alpha, and being worried about whatever the hell the Omega was to him—and it hurt Mick’s head. The Beta’s expression twisted unhappily, and he shook his head, heading toward the exit.

A hand gripping his wrist halted his movements, and his head snapped up to glare at the Alpha holding him. “Mick—“

The one word carried too much weight—too many repressed thoughts and feelings that Mick had refused to deal with. _Still_ refused to deal with. The other man must have realized that by the fire in his gaze, because he stopped speaking, and a second later released his grip, letting Mick storm back to his bunk, fingers clenching and unclenching as they itched desperately for the trigger of his gun.

**Author's Note:**

> As I (hopefully) delve further into this story, I'm hoping to explain the world more organically, but in a nutshell:  
> Basic Premise: The LoT "fight for Earth" of 2166 led by Vandal Savage has now changed into a fight for Alpha dominance. The civilized world is now united by an "Alpha Council", in which Betas and so-called "mongrel" Alphas (Alphas born from Beta parents) have been stripped of most of their rights. Among other things, mating/marriage to an Omega is now strictly reserved for "pureblood" Alphas, and Beta-Beta marriages are unrecognized by the state.  
> After the war, many who fought as "Independents" drifted to the limits of the borders, mostly living the less-than-upstanding lifestyle. Time travel is obviously strictly regulated by the government, but Alphas can be granted a 5-year ferrying permit if they can afford a Time Ship, which allows them to take visa-holding passengers on small, inconsequential time jumps. Some smugglers or "Time Pirates" take advantage of this permit to make larger jumps in time in order to transport illegal contraband and cargo across time and space. Kept fairly harmless (food, medical supplies, etc), these trips can stay under the radar and allow persons to live outside of the "civilized" world.  
> The Waverider, captained by Alpha Barry Allen, is one such ship.


End file.
